Thursday, July 7, 2011

You don't bring me flowers. Thank you for that.

Over at The Pie, where the Faithful Followers switch topics the way a television switches channels, the topic of flowers came up.

As in, receiving flowers.

From a Gentleman.

Now I love me some flowers.  I love roses, lilies, peonies, sweet peas, daisies, etc.  Except for Gardenias.  I hate the smell of Gardenias.  Oh, and daisies reminds me of a joke:

When is a Vase a Vahz?  When it is filled with Dahzies.

Bahhahahahaha!  I hate it when people pronounce "vase" as "vahz."  So pretentious.  Like pronouncing "endive" as "ondeeve."  Please.

Anyway.  I love flowers.  I love having fresh flowers in a lovely vase (not vahz) on my tables and/or mantels.

But as for RECEIVING flowers from a gentleman, well, I'd rather not received them.

Not because I'm some sort of militant feminist who doesn't need a damn man to buy her flowers because she can buy her own damn flowers but because I don't have a good track record when it comes to receiving flowers from Gentlemen.

A few examples:

Back in my wild misspent youth (read: single slutty days): I arrived at work one morning after an alcohol soaked evening that ended with a walk of shame (if you get my drift) and there on my desk was a massive bouquet of roses, a couple dozen of them, along with a Magnum of Champagne.  My one-night-stand had sent them.  I must have shown him quite a good time (if you get my drift) and he wanted to show his appreciation.  Me?  I wanted to forget the night (and him) had ever happened (parts were big blanks so I guess I did.  Kind of).  He?  Wanted to bring me home to Meet his Mom.  I guess I was That Good.

I reacted by never taking his calls and avoiding him like the plague.  Because I'm mature like that.

Example #2:  I had this friend.  Bob was his name.  He was funny and cute and we were Best Friends.  Partners in Crime.  Cronies.  Sidekicks.  It was strictly a Platonic Friendship.  At least on MY part.  But one day we did the Grownup.  I was bored, is my only excuse.  Immediately I realized it was a mistake and figured we go back to being just Friends.  Without Benefits.

He, on the other hand, thought differently.  As I found out when a couple of days later he brought me roses, professed his love and told me he thought his family's big Christmas get-together would be the perfect time to announce our engagement.  

Huh wha?

Sadly, our friendship, not to mention our "romance" came to a screeching halt as I reacted to his proposal in a very mature manner:  I ran away and avoided him like the plague.  Because I'm mature like that.

Cut me some slack, I was 21.  This Girl just wanted to have Fun.  Not marry a guy who was, shall we say, "underwhelming" in the sack (if you get my drift).

Example #3:  I had made the decision to end a long relationship because I had lost that lovin' feelin'.  It happens.  I was going to meet with him after work and dump his ass give him the "it's not you, I need my space, we can still be friends" speech.  Right before lunch, I look up and there he is, walking toward me with a big bouquet of roses and an expression of such love on his face as my coworkers, who all absolutely ADORED him, applauded and cooed.

And I'm all, "Fuuuuuuuuck."

It was another six months before I was finally able to Officially end the relationship because he must have sensed my feelings and switched into overdrive with the romantic gestures and it made me feel guilty.  

So I reacted by cheating on him every chance I got.  Because I'm mature like that.

Fast forward to when TheManTheMyth and I had been married for about a year or so.

It's my birthday.  TheManTheMyth presents me with a beautiful bouquet of roses.  Obviously to soften the blow of my actual birthday present.  Which was a transmission for the Baja Bug he had given me for Christmas.  Which was something I never asked for nor wanted.

THIS is a Baja Bug:
And they say Romance is Dead.

But wait!   There's more!

One day, TheManTheMyth comes walking in the door with a dozen red roses and a stupid grin on his face.  Instantly my guard is up.

A moment later, my mother-in-law walks in with her little slapdog Tinkerbell (I HATED that dog.) and a suitcase. 

And TMTM tells me that MIL will be staying with us for a couple of weeks and you don't mind do you honey and did I mention that I'm leaving in a few minutes for a Boys Trip and I'll be gone about the entire duration of my mom's stay and look here are some lovely flowers for you because I love you so much because you're the Best Wife in the World and oh look, my ride is here I gotta go. 

And THAT is why I'd rather not receive flowers from a Gentleman.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

I survived 4th of July and why I would be a TERRIBLE juror

Let me begin by saying I survived 4th of July 2011.  It was a tough job but someone had to do it.

Actually, it was a piece of cake because ya wanna know what I did to celebrate our Glorious Nation's Independence Day?

Nuthin'.  I did nuthin'.

Oh, I don't mean I sat in a trance-like state for hours and hours on end.  I mean I did nothing special or celebratory.  No BBQing with friends and mass quantities of alcohol, no lighting of fireworks, no waving of sparklers, no battling traffic to get to the beach, no driving anywhere so I could see spectacular displays of pyrotechnics.

Because who knows how to party?

Not this gal.  At least, not any more.

I used to, though.  There used to be a time where it wasn't considered a successful July 4th unless July 5th was spent suffering from epic hangovers, various burns and mystery bruises.  Among other things.  Things that may or may not have included the words, "Uh, Who are you?" or, "What the hell did I DO last night?" or "Dude, where's my car?"

Good times.

Nope, them days are gone for me.  And I don't miss them because I have become a cranky old lady who does not find enjoyment in drunken shenanigans any more.

So I spent the 4th doing housework, taking Gracie Lou for walks and watching the "BBQ Pitmasters" marathon on TV.  Which was a stupid thing to do because I was STARVING when I was watching.  

"Never watch food shows when you're hungry" is a rule to go along with "Never go the the supermarket when you're hungry or you will come home with Scooterpies, Bugles and Soda."  Don't ask me how I know this.

I'm still craving BBQ today.  So guess what's for dinner tonight?  Spaghetti.  

I will probably never be picked to serve on a jury.  Because every time (okay, once) I've been told to report to a courtroom for selection, I've admitted that it would be 99.9% impossible to keep my piehole shut and not discuss the case.  I can't keep a secret so why would I keep quiet about a criminal case?  Please.

Anyway, it's probably a good thing I won't be serving on a jury any time soon, especially after being dumbfounded by the Casey Anthony verdict of Not Guilty.  It would be very difficult for me to separate my personal feelings (THAT BITCH KILLED HER DAUGHTER!) from the legal aspects of "Did the defense provide Reasonable Doubt?"

And it would be difficult for me to focus on trivial things like Evidence when I'm thinking to myself, "That lawyer is a assbag douchecanoe and where did he/she get that suit and those shoes!  Sheesh!" and then during boring segments keeping my mind from wandering toward things like "I hope Teemu Selanne doesn't retire" and "Pulled pork and fried dill pickles sound so good right now!" and "I hope there's another season of 'My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding!'"

Because that's how I roll.

God Bless America.

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Just some random stuff

For some strange reason, I have been craving onion rings and french fries.  Or as Jack in the Box called them, "Frings."  Oh, now I'm really hungry for JitB tacos and Frings.  And my kid has my car right now.  He went running off to the local "Build a Bear Workshop" to make something for his girlfriend.  That boy has quite the romantic side and I have no idea where he got it.  He certainly didn't get from his father.  Or me.  

See if you can guess what this is:
Go on.  Guess.

I took this picture myself and I think it's pretty darn neat.  Very abstract.

So Prince Albert of Monaco and Charlene Wittstock are married.  And hell yeah I totally believe that she tried to bolt prior to the wedding.  3 times if the rumors are true.

On one hand, you know it's bad when the bride has to be forced to stay in the country by having her passport confiscated but on the other hand, she and ol' Albert, who hasn't seemed to learn that old adage, "Use a condom and you will learn, no deposit means no return," have been together for how long?  She had to have known what she was getting herself into.

However, didn't Charlene look like "Dead Man Walking" during the civil service.  There was no joy in Bugville there.

Oh! and Princess Stephanie.  Holy crap she looks like hammered shit.  Rode hard and put away wet.  Like she has spent way too much time in dive bars.  Like she had run off and joined the circus or something.  What?  Oh.  Yeah.  She DID run off and join the circus.  I half expect to see her on "My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding."

And SPEAKING of "MBFGW" how much do I love this show?  I love it more than chocolate.

I am completely and utterly fascinated with this show.  From the (ahem) virginal young girls dressing up (and dancing) like they were pole dancing skanks to the gargantuan wedding dresses that are too big to fit down the aisles of the church.  I so want to try on one of those massive dresses that they can't seem to walk in without goosestepping.  Why is it so hard to walk in those dresses?  Scarlett O'Hara didn't seem to have any trouble navigating HER massive hoopskirts.

I doubt MBFGW will be back for a second season, though. 


But speaking of a show that is coming back for another season, "Two and a Half Men" will supposedly be killing off the character of Charlie Harper to make room for Ashton Kutcher's character.  

To which I say, "Bad." 

This is supposed to be a COMEDY and killing off the main character is just kind of, well, a Bummer.

The writers can come up with something much more funny than killing off Charlie, which would really be a "Fuck You Dude" from Chuck Lorre to Charlie "My Cheese Slid Off My Cracker With a Vengeance" Sheen.

How's this for explaining Charlie's disappearance:

Charlie runs off to, oh let's say Monte Carlo, and then gets arrested for aiding and abetting Charlene Wittstock when she tried to run away from marrying Prince Albert and he gets thrown in jail and then Princess Stephanie breaks him out and she takes him hide out with the circus and he ends up falling for the bearded lady and he, Bearded Lady and Princess Stephanie live in a menage a' trois in a caravan.

Are you listening Chuck Lorre?  

THAT'S comedy.